


Refuge

by Mastre



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Loki Feels, Loki Gets a Hug, Loki Has Issues, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki is Not Amused, Nightmares, POV Third Person, Sexual Content, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 22,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6371698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mastre/pseuds/Mastre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki finally escapes his imprisonment something unexpected happens, and a strange healing journey begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Not compatible with "The Dark World": Frigga is still alive and Loki's imprisonment went a little differently.  
> Since there is minimum physical description provided of my OC you can read the story as a Loki/Reader interaction if you like.

As they were leading him back to his cell he saw his chance. After such long time, and right after a "punishment", they were getting lazy at paying attention. He was a patient man, and very resilient, so he could afford to wait for this moment. At least... that's what he had thought. The malnutrition and recurring pain had started to wear him out, and his body was weakening. Yet, there should still be enough of physical strength, and magic, for an attempt.

He slowed his pace just a little bit, pretending to stagger, and just as the nearest guard pulled at the chains he made his move; kicking the slightly unbalanced guard's legs out from under him. In an instant he was on the other one, wrapping a chain around his neck. There wasn't time for a kill, unless he could cleanly snap the man's neck, but all he needed was to render him unconscious while he took care of the other one.

He cursed internally about how little time passed before the first guard was on him. Under normal conditions he would be faster, would have better muscle control, but his body just didn't obey as it once had. If he couldn't end this fast, before his strength ran out...

Wasting some precious magic, he fooled the guards into attacking each other instead of him, slipping away to approach them from behind. The chain once again, and this time he heard something snap. Since it was the same guard who had taunted him earlier he allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. One left to go...

After some wrestling he managed to knock out the other one against the stone floor, and proceeded to remove the shackles. Sounds of other guards approaching was reaching him but he already had an escape route in mind. The most important thing was to cloak himself with magic, so Heimdall wouldn't be able to detect him once he was out of the dungeons.

Since it was the lowest and oldest level they had kept him in he would have to pass through the upper, regular prison levels to get out. That could be tricky, but not impossible. Few people knew their way around the realm like he did, and that included obscure places like the dungeons.

Not that he had ever expected to end up a prisoner himself, and in the lowest, most loathsome level at that. Forgotten, discarded; boredom only disrupted by irregularly timed "punishment sessions". The pain he could deal with, but the humiliation... The thought made him clench his teeth.

Down here, guards and punishers had free reign; nobody kept tabs on what they were doing as long as the prisoners stayed alive, and that had it's inevitable consequenses. He had had it easy today; only a flogging and salt rubbed into his bleeding flesh. Those wounds would heal quickly and he was in no way incapacitated by them.

_I was a prince. A KING! They had no right treating me like a lowly..._

He needed to focus. Getting past the guards on the next level required concentration.


	2. In hiding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T.W. Mentions of torture and nasty stuff.

Once out of the prison area he could take a moment to rest and breathe. He hadn't realized what a toll it would take to escape. Maybe, just maybe he had overestimated himself. A whole year imprisoned, with little movement and no training, had obviously weakened him some; that was unavoidable. Malnutrition and dehydration didn't help. Once they had sewn his mouth shut for three days because he had talked back to his punisher. His eyes darkened at the memory; there was a man he'd be coming back to kill one day, slowly and painfully.

The more he had kept his composure, the more they had tried to push him; force him out of control and see him fall apart. They had rarely, so rarely succeded. He had ended up taking delight in their frustration, no matter what price his body had to pay for it, no matter how painful the cost on the inside. They could force him to his knees, but they would never see him break.

Early on he had wondered if Odin had ordered his torture. Now it no longer mattered. He must have known what the result would be when you place a prisoner at the mercy of people with no supervision.

_Discarded. Worthless. A shame to be hidden away and forgotten._

"Prince Loki?" The woman in front of him interupted his thoughts and he froze, cursing himself for slipping and not paying attention to his surroundings. Where did she come from?

Before he could snap out of it and silence her she lifted a finger to her lips. He hesitated while she looked around and made a sign at him to follow. He shouldn't trust anyone, yet... Mentally preparing for anything he might encounter he let her lead the way through doors and corridors and finally up some stairs.

Halfway up his knees folded and he had to stop. It was impossible to take another step until he'd rested. With shaking hands he supported himself against the wall and tried to avoid meeting the woman's gaze. Whoever she was, she shouldn't be allowed to see him in this state. Nobody should. Desperation gripped at him with ice cold fingers. He felt helpless like a kitten. If she led him into a trap, or if the guards showed up right now...

_I can't go back. I will not go back!_

Finally he'd gathered enough strength to start moving again. She put an arm around his waist for support, which felt intrusive and strange but for some reason he allowed it. Not that it made much difference, but even a little went a long way when he was in this weakened state. If he could just find a place to rest and recover before moving on he might have a chance. 

Finally the woman halted and left him standing in a short passageway while she walked around a corner. He swept sweaty strands of hair out of his eyes and leaned against the wall while waiting. The wounds on his back burned, and so did the one across his chest; from the last whiplash aimed at his nipples just when he had turned around, thinking it was over.

They would try to keep him off balance by doing the unexpected. Some days they would withhold the food. Some days there was a punishment, other days not. And the torture itself varied so he didn't know what to expect. Still...they were amateurs compared to what he'd been through with Thanos and The Other. It took a lot more to break the man he had become.

His companion came back, placed a hand on his arm and urged him along to an open door and through, then quickly closed and locked behind them. He found himself in one of the many guestrooms in the royal palace. One of the lesser, judging from the furnishing.

She quickly pulled the curtains over the window and came back to him. The large bed in the further end of the room look incredibly inviting; he could have done anything to just sink down in it... but she had other plans.

"You need a bath or they will find you on smell alone." Not a very delicate way to put it, but he couldn't deny that she was right. Hygiene was a luxury he'd rarely been permitted during imprisonment. He followed her into the bathroom and waited patiently while she filled the tub.

Tiredness suddenly came over him as a crushing wave, almost making him nauseous. Finally, finally some rest, maybe even safety; if only for a little while. He was well aware that he shouldn't allow himself to relax yet; he knew nothing about this woman or why she'd decided to help him, but his energy was running low and he desperately needed to believe in _something_.

"Do you need help with the clothes?" she asked, bringing him back to reality. He ignored her and started to remove the garments, not completely without problems. His hands were trembling with tiredness and he fumbled, but eventually he managed. It would have been too humiliating to let someone else undress him right now. He'd rather hold on to what little dignity he had left.

As he lowered himself into the warm water he got a good look at his own body and realised that dignity was perhaps too high a goal to attain. He had always been slender, but now he looked flat out starved, as well as covered in old dirt and dried blood. The wounds from the last few days were in various states of healing and some of them looked plain repulsive. Not to mention that the water started to change color as the dirt began dissolving.  
"We'll need to refresh that water in a bit", she observed, obviously noticing the same thing. He leaned back, careful to not put pressure on the fresh wounds on his back. When she grabbed a washcloth and started cleaning him up he let it happen.

Only when he started to relax a little the underlying thought that had been nagging came up to the surface and he frowned.  
"You're Midgardian!" he spoke out and she startled.  
"How can you tell? I couldn't for my life tell the difference between the people here and those back home."  
"There are differences..." he informed her without elaborating. "What are you doing here?"  
"Actually..." she began while rubbing soap along his right arm. "I'm here on invitation by your mother."  
He frowned and stared at her, incredolous.  
"Frigga?"  
"Yes, the queen... Appearently she's been having visions involving me, so she seeked me out. Said she wanted to know who I am and... what my life looks like."  
"What sort of visions?" This was getting more curious by the minute.

"She won't tell me, but I assume they're important since she went through the trouble of finding me. And bringing me here." She moved on to his chest, carefully cleaning around the thin red line left by the whip, but not asking or commenting on it. He watched her suspiciously. Bringing a mortal to Asgard was extremely unusual, mother must have had very strong reasons, if the story was true.

"Does Odin know?"  
"The king? Appearently not; he doesn't like visitors or something. I'm only here since yesterday morning, and I'll probably never get invited again since I'm now harboring a fugitive in my room." Her tone was light, but it was a shield; there was fear and worry clearly detectable underneath. Not very good at hiding her emotions, was she.

He pondered the situation. It was a while since he had had any contact with his once family. Frigga had visited him in the beginning, when he was still in a cell in the upper levels, but not since they'd moved him downstairs after the last escape attempt. That made at least eight months without contact, unless he'd miscalculated the time, which was perfectly possible. It might be nine or ten for all he gathered.

"Did she say anything else?" he asked, trying to sound like he didn't really care about the answer, like it didn't matter to him whatever might have been happening during his isolation.  
"She talked about you." That certainly piqued his curiousity, but he couldn't make himself to voice it; couldn't get the sounds out. As the last bit of adrenaline was wearing off he started to feel like he was choking. All the little pains and aches and discomforts was breaching the surface.

"She even showed me a picture, which is how I recognized you in the first place", the mortal continued. "And she told me you were imprisoned indefinitely. It seemed to... be quite a painful topic for her."

_So she did care still...That she didn't visit anymore might be because she couldn't, not because she didn't want to._

He allowed the woman to sink his hair under water and wash it. It was a pleasant feeling, he had to admit. She had a way of massaging his scalp that felt...soothing. It was a sharp contrast to the roughness he'd come to associate with the touch of others. Her fingers were gentle, and she went out of her way not to aggravate his wounds.

The water had taken on an unappetizing color and she emptied it out, replacing it with fresher and warmer, and he started to feel more comfortable. Then she touched his inner thigh and he flinched.  
"I'm sorry" she said, picking up a fresh washcloth. "I know it's akward and uncomfortable, but it has to be done. This is not a place you want to leave dirty."  
He sighed and let her continue, leaning back with closed eyes. This not only put his trust to the test, it also had potential to get embarrassing, though he wasn't sure whether he was too tired to care.

"Just close your eyes and think of England!"  
"What?" She smiled at his confusion.  
"It's something they used to say to young brides in older times, before their wedding night. Women were not supposed to have their own sexuality; they were only to be used by their husbands. Therefore a wedding night was not something to look forward to, but to endure."  
"Mortals..." he muttered, almost shaking his head at the absurdity.

It should really be beneath him to be... _touched_ by a lowly mortal, but he didn't want to waste precious energy on cleaning himself when somebody else was there and willing to do it. And however much he would like to deny it, it did feel good to be taken care of.

He opened his eyes slightly and peeked at her through dark eyelashes. She looked focused and serious, but not embarrassed, like it was perfectly normal and natural for her to handle a god's privates. Peculiar woman! He certainly hoped _this_ wasn't what mother had seen in her visions.


	3. Resting and restless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T.W. Mentions of abuse

There was a knock on the outer door and they both froze. She snapped out of it and got to her feet, dropping the washcloth and hurrying out into the bedroom. Quickly she dragged her wet hands through her hair, moistening it, then removed her black jeans. She had refused to wear the long Asgardian skirts more than when absolutely necessary. Beautiful as they may look, she felt ridiculous in that kind of attire.

A second knock sounded, but it wasn't urgent or aggressive, so maybe...

"I'm coming!" she shouted, swinging a robe over her shoulders and tucking it thoroughly over her remaining clothes so they wouldn't show, then walked barefoot to the door.

The young servant girl outside was carrying a tray with her dinner, and quietly put it down on a free surface. There was nothing suspicious in her behaviour, nothing indicating that she knew. Moist from the bath would be noticable in the air, but that was easily explained by the robe and the wet hair. If only the prince stayed quiet they might be safe for another while.

She didn't dare think about what would happen once they were discovered. She'd seen the state he was in; exhausted, malnourished, covered in wounds... If they did that a prisoner who'd once been a member of the royal family she didn't want to think about what they'd do to her. If she was lucky they might just throw her out of Asgard, but she suspected her crime would be considered more serious than that. Who knew what kind of laws they had in this place?

Obviously she was nuts for doing this, but when did she ever take the easy way out? New York wasn't anywhere near where she lived, but she had seen the devastation from the alien attack on news and social media. She had just never expected to stand eye to eye with the one who engineered it. Or see him so desperate and broken.

No, broken was the wrong word to describe this man. There was determination under the surface, and something dangerous burning, like wrath or perhaps vengeance.This was an injured animal she was dealing with, and should probably not had gone near; yet it felt like she couldn't do anything else but help him. Because she could never resist helping someone in need, no matter how many times it got her into trouble.

And this was Queen Frigga's son and there had been so much pain in the older woman's eyes when talking about him, and she felt for her. _Your children are always your children no matter how grown they are, no matter what they've done._

She returned to the bathroom to find the prince peacefully resting in the warm water with his eyes closed. The only thing disturbing the serenity of the picture was the visible cuts and bruises that decorated his pale skin.

"Dinner is here." she announced. "There is stew, if you want to try to eat something."

They were almost done with the bathing anyway, so the timing was good. All she needed to do was clean his feet, which were just as abused as the rest of him. Around the ankles an inflamed, chafed redness was visible; she guessed from some kind of restraint. It was almost disturbing that he didn't seem more bothered by all the injuries; either he was really stoic or he had a remarkable pain tolerance.

She had no clothes that would fit him and the old ones needed to at least soak a few hours before being wearable again; there were months of dirt ingrained in them. He simply had to sit naked in bed while eating. In _her_ bed, eating _her_ food. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of the situation.

_It's only absurd in other people's eyes. In mine it's the right thing to do. I'm proud of who I am, remember? Don't listen to the peanut gallery!_

\---

He leaned back, realising just how long since he'd had all those little comforts on a daily basis; decent food, a _soft_ bed, warm baths... Things he used to take for granted, but now felt like a luxury. Even company in bed; not that he was going to act on it in any way. He looked at _her_ lying nearby, but with ample space between them. She seemed absorbed in a book but the long time it took to finish a page told him her focus wasn't where it should be.

It was quiet in the room, still early but the sun was setting outside. He would need to catch as much sleep as possible to restore himself before moving on. Couldn't stay here forever however tempting such an illusion would be.

_Why are you aiding me? Think there is some sort of reward down the line? That I will return and be grateful for all you have done?_

Pathetic, fragile mortal! He could have snapped her neck almost with a flick of his fingers. And he probably should, so she couldn't tell anyone what she had seen. 

\---

_"A hand over the back of his neck pushed him down on the floor.  
Look how low you've fallen, your highness." The tone was mocking, with emphasis on the title. "Crawling on the floor, lower than all of us." His fists clenched against the dirt on the uneven tiles, his mind filled with visions of how he was going to tear the head off his tormenter with his bare hands. The hand withdrew, replaced by a heavy boot against his back._

He tore awake, staring into the sudden darkness. There was no stone floor, but free space before him, and soft pillows behind. A hand rested on his brow, but a gentle one, soothing. His breath stilled, the hand moved away and he went back to sleep.

 _He was slammed against the wall so hard there was barely time to shift his face to the side to avoid a bloody nose. All air was knocked out of him,and before he could breath in again the bigger man pressed against his back, squeezing his lungs shut. His arms were pulled upwards to fit into the hanging shackles. As he struggled to find air the brute hissed in his ear:  
"I will tame you myself. If I so have to_ fuck _that magic out of you."_

He gasped, startling awake and it took several seconds to realize that he could breath again, that his chest wasn't constricted. The hand was there once again, this time cradling the side of his face. Before it could be withdrawn he turned on his side and pinned her hand between his cheek and the pillow. His fist tightened, mind ablaze with how everyone who had witnessed his humiliations would die. Every. Last. One. But she hadn't, and for now her hand would keep him from drowning in his own nightmares.


	4. Confrontation

She woke in the early morning hours and eased herself out from under the covers. A look back told her that the prince was still asleep. As restless as the night had been he finally seemed able to relax, at least for the time being. She quietly picked up her clothes and walked into the bathroom to clean up. As the night sweat washed away her head was full of thoughts.

What would they do next? Would he decide that he'd recovered enough to move on? Probably. He'd surely need more rest and nourishment, but the longer he stayed the bigger the risk. He would have to put distance between himself and the palace as soon as possible. She did wish for him to get away; it would be too cruel if it all had been in vain. Despite what he'd done on her home world she didn't want to imagine him dragged back to a cell with more of... whatever they'd been doing to him.

A song from earth came to mind as she was getting dressed. "Mama, I'm in love with a criminal...and this type of love isn't rational...". Well, this wasn't love; it was compassion. 

And just as she was done they came for him.

The commotion at the door was not a polite knock, like the timid servant girl's yesterday. This was loud and demanding and she hadn't even reached the door before it burst open. 

Two guards entered, followed by another two and she froze on the spot. Behind her Loki was awake and sitting up; she could hear the sheets shift in the brief moment of silence once the guards stopped moving.  
"We are here to retrieve the prisoner! You are both to come with us."

She knew that they could easily push her aside to get to him, but something kept her nailed to the floor. She also knew there was nowhere to escape, but she wanted to slow them down, to keep them from reaching him if only for a fragment of time. 

Suddenly there were rapid footsteps approaching outside the door and the queen became visible in the doorway. She looked regal as ever but her face betrayed that she hadn't slept. Her eyes took in the room and the mortal woman standing, feet firmly planted on the ground, between the massive, armoured guards and the cornered man in the bed.  
"Stop!" The guards obeyed hesitantly and stood down.

She looked back, seeing what the queen must be seeing: Loki was indeed sitting up, exposing his bare chest and arms with their marks of abuse and restraints, black hair unkempt and grown longer than his shoulders. His expression looked like he was struggling to hide his desperation, but it was a lost cause.

There was someone else appearing behind the queen; a young man with blond hair and a short beard, resembling another picture she had briefly seen when visiting with queen Frigga the day before. Another prince. He stopped abruptly and stared with widening eyes.  
"Brother, what has been done to you?" His deep voice was tainted by shock, but Loki's face hardened into a bitter smile.  
"Why, isn't this what I deserved? Are you going to pretend you suddenly _care_?"  
"This is not... When I left you were imprisoned, nothing more."

Loki stepped out of bed, the sheet wrapped around his hips and legs, and when he for a moment turned his back the not yet healed stripes on his scrawny back were blatantly visible.  
"They flogged you?" The blond man's voice was incredolous. The queen took a shaky breath, then visibly collected herself.  
"He has been kept in the lower levels." she explained. "I will speak to your father about this." And with another look at Loki's bruised form she left the room.

The brothers stared at each other; one shocked, the other radiating cold venom.  
"Oh, this is nothing." he stated dismissively. "Don't you wish to know what they did three weeks ago? It took a bit longer to heal. Or do you want to hear about...?"  
"Stop this!" The blond prince (she suddenly remembered that his name was Thor) was clearly being provoked, but Loki didn't stop. He seemed to take morbid pleasure in poking the other man towards a reaction.

"Do you want to hear about when they sewed my mouth shut? Or when they made me...?  
"I never meant for you to go through this!" Thor shouted in a futile attempt to shut him up. "I would not have allowed it!"  
"Ooh... you would not have allowed it." Loki mocked. The dark-haired prince's face was twisted with anger and bitterness. "How is it then, that a pathetic mortal managed to care more for me than you did in all this time?" Both of them looked at her at once and she took a step backwards, unnerved by the sudden attention. They were so intense she thought they would end up fighting at any moment.

One of the guards cleared his throat and reminded that they were there to pick up prisoners on the king's order. Thor gave in, but demanded they'd be treated with no more force that necessary. He ended up walking with them for a few minutes, then taking off, probably to meet with the king and the queen. He and Loki didn't speak another word to each other.

\---

 _"Did you know what he was subjected to? He's our_ son _!"_  
_"Yet he persists in denying it."_  
_"Did you_ know _?"_  
_"The cells in the upper levels could not hold him. This was the only way."_  
_"Father, you know I agree that he should be confined for the protection of others, as well as himself, but this treatment serves no purpose. If anything it will make him more set on spite and vengeance."_  
_"Everybody seem to think they know better...Tell me, then: What would you have done?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song refered to is "Criminal" with Britney Spears. There is a Loki fan video with this song at : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jde6MBDjkWs


	5. Contemplation

He was back where he started; in a cell in the upper level. They knew they couldn't keep him in indefinitely. He would always find a way to escape the confinement. Over and over again. It was more than likely that they were searching for a more permanent solution. The question was; would he walk to his final sentence with dignity or would he fight them every step of the way?

He sat leaning forward, elbows on his knees and deep in thoughts. His teeth worried away at his knuckles without feeling it.

There was one person who had helped him without hesitation, without fear of the consequenses holding her back. He had to admit that the Midgardian was brave, or maybe hopelessly stupid. She had aided him when she had absolutely no reason to. Now she was imprisoned in another cell, most likely. Paying the price. On some level it bothered him, though it was not for him to care about lowly mortals, like his "brother" insisted on doing.

She had gone through great length to care for him, and keep him safe, when the easiest thing would have been to turn her back or sound the alarm when she first encountered him. She had done everything opposite of what was common sense. Why? When abandoned by everybody else a complete stranger had offered him kindness and he couldn't wrap his head around it. There was no detectable reason whatsoever for her behaviour.

He looked at his knuckles. It was the hand he had seen turn blue in the cold world of Jotunheim an eternity ago. Flexing his fingers his mind wandered back to that day. Nothing had ever been the same since. Nothing would ever be.

\---

She was locked up in a cell with white walls and a weird power barrier between her and the outside. Other cells were visible across the room, some populated, others empty. At least she had the luxury of being alone in hers. She stood straight, taking in her surroundings. If she sat down she would most likely start crying. There were few times in her life she had felt this scared.

Where they had taken the prince she didn't know. They had been separated, and she couldn't see him from this angle. She had a strange feeling of being caught in a dream, like everything that had happened was only a fantasy in her sleeping mind. It was unreal; Queen Frigga showing up at her door, the dirty prisoner standing before her, the armed guards bringing them down here... 

Yet the floor was hard under her feet. The sounds reaching her from outside were undeniably real. Nothing suggested that she would be waking up soon. 

Somebody came to ask her questions. She answered as truthfully as possible, but avoided telling them where she had encountered the prisoner. Avoided telling exactly how far they had walked when she brought him to her room. Even she realized that that truth wouldn't work in her favour. She also couldn't answer why she had helped him. Though she could it wouldn't make sense to anyone else.

_Because this is what I do. I care, I comfort, I want to make people feel better. This is what I am. I've never known how to be anything else._

\---

Early the next morning two guards came to escort her out of the prison area. They were quiet, not answering her questions or giving a hint of where they were going. She expected the worst, and so it was almost an anticlimax when the Bifrost observatory came into view. She should feel incredibly lucky, and in a way she did, but the feeling of something unfinished kept lingering in her mind. There were answers she would never learn, puzzle pieces she would never be able to fit into place. Her presence was treated like an inconvenience that should be erased, her self like something insignificant that could be dismissed without a second thought.

She wondered about the Queen, this proud mother who'd never given up hope on her wayward son. About the fallen prince she had spent a night with, who now would be back to waste away somewhere in the dungeons. About this foreign world she had caught a glimpse of, yet could never tell anyone about or learn more of.

It was like having touched something precious, coming close to making a difference, yet to be left hanging as it was snatched away, not to be seen again. There was no closure, no answers, and she knew she would never stop wondering how the story continued after she was gone.


	6. Lost and found

It was weeks later and close to evening when the doorbell rang. She put down her book and went to answer. Outside the door was someone she had never expected to see again; tall and slender build, black hair and a cheeky smile on his lips.  
"Hello, have you missed me?"  
"Oh shit! Loki!" He walked by her before she could even invite him in, self-assured like he owned the place. She frowned and closed the door. "What are you doing here?"

He turned around to face her, still smiling.  
"I didn't escape again, if that is what you think." She wasn't sure what hit her as most peculiar; his attitude or his earthly appearance; he wore black jeans and a leather jacket. His face was still gaunt and his hands bony; it didn't look like he'd gained much weight since last she saw him. She wondered if he was all healed up from the wounds she'd once helped him clean.

"I am a mortal now. Stripped of my godly status and dropped here to fend for myself." The bitterness seeped into his voice in the form of venomous sarcasm, smile suddenly replaced with clenched jaw and flashing eyes.  
"With me? What...?" He made a irritated hand movement.  
"Not as such. I was merely told where to find you, in case."  
"In case of what? I thought they threw me out of Asgard because I got involved with you in the first place." This was getting weirder and weirder. She couldn't believe he was standing in her hallway.

"In case I needed help... or a friend, I suppose." His tone was loaded with distaste. Somebody's pride had taken a severe stab to the gut, that was obvious.  
"So you're here because you don't have a choice."  
"In a manner of speaking."

He ventured into her living room and looked around, disapproving. " _This_ is how you live?"  
"You're telling me your prison cell was better?" He didn't answer, just kept looking. At her books, her overloaded desk, her small kitchen, glancing at the tiny garden outside. It was no royal palace, for sure, but perfectly livable. "If your pampered royal ass don't like it..." He gave her a glare, and she actually regretted the words. He hadn't exactly looked pampered the last time they met.

If he really tried he could probably have found a way to fend for himself, but she saw no reason to not let him stay, at least for a while. This time they didn't share a bed, however; he had to settle for the couch. 

\---

She stood in the kitchen eating ice cream when she saw it:  
"That's a bigass crow." Loki looked up, then stood and walked towards the window.  
"It's not a crow." His green eyes searched the trees outside.  
"Then what is it?" She neared the window to get a better view.  
"It's a raven." He pointed. "There's the other one."  
"You're saying...?"  
"The allfather's spies. They know I am here."  
"Wow, they're real too?" She waved at the birds. "So if I was to do something really inappropriate now, would they tell...?  
"Do not even think about it!" But the corners of his mouth were twitching. Somewhere, on some level, he seemed to appreciate the thought.

"Odin is waiting for a reason to put me back in the dungeons." Loki said bitterly. "I should have known, of course. He will be watching us from now on, and if he thinks that I've misstepped..." He clenched his jaw. She could almost feel the resentment radiating off him.

She wanted to say "I'm sorry" or something equally sympathetic, but had a feeling he wouldn't take it well so she stayed quiet.

The birds were impressive though; she had never seen ravens in real life before and they were a sight worth admiring, no less so because they came straight out of myth.

_What am I doing? How do I end up in these situations? I have a Nordic god sleeping on my couch, for fuck's sake. And something tells me he's not going to be easy to live with."_


	7. Fury and pride

Loki was walking back and forth through the house, his strides impatient, his whole body language radiating anger and frustration. Occasionally he muttered curses in a language she was not familar with, but the meaning was clear. She just hoped he wouldn't start throwing things; that was a real possibility. Discretely she moved a few fragile objects out of the way.

She felt a bit helpless. There was nothing she could do about the situation at hand, and she had a distinct feeling there was more going on under the surface than just the surveillance problem. He wouldn't have reacted this strongly had there not been history beyond the present, and obvious, matter.

This was not the time to ask, of course.

"It doesn't matter what I do." he burst out. "As long as I'm trapped in this mortal state I'm unable to do much of anything. And _yet_ he has me watched as well, so he can decide to jank me back if I'm not up to his standards, discordant as they are."

He stopped for a moment and looked accusingly at her, like daring her to object. And he looked kind of scary in his intensity. She felt like she needed to ground and remind him where the blame belonged before he acted out of control:  
"I get that you're upset, and that you have reason to be. Just don't take it out on me! I'm not the one who caused it." He ignored her and kept walking. His face was so strained there were tears in his eyes.

\---

"Loki..." He interrupted her roughly:  
"Do you want to know what they did to me? Do you?"   
She held up her hands:  
"I saw the aftermath. I don't need the details." He made a disparaging gesture .  
"Pain is not the worst thing people can inflict on you."  
"I know that, but it's pretty bad in itself." He didn't even bother to answer.

"I've always thought humiliation is the worst." she revealed. "But I'm a little weird." Loki stopped and looked at her, surprised. She shrugged. "I know. I told you I'm weird."  
He shook his head.  
"No, you are not weird, you are..." "...right." he was about to say but stopped, just letting it be. Nothing good came out of discussing this. This enfuriating mortal kept surprising him, making him lose his edge, and he was about to tell her things that nobody should know. That wouldn't do.

He sank down on the couch in silence, clenching his fists till his nails made deep marks in the skin. The pain eased his frustration somewhat, making him feel a little less powerless.

"I think we need to get out of here," the woman said thoughtfully, standing by the window. Her eyes was lingering on something outside. "Just get our minds off things. Tonight we're going to take a walk."

\---

"We need to get higher." she said, pointing up the hill. They moved through the dark, navigating vegetation and discarded bottles. He was appalled by the state of nature in this place. The more trash he stepped on the more he regretted being talked into coming here. Couldn't those pesky Midgardians at least _attempt_ to clean up after themselves? He didn't even want to know what it was that just stuck to the underside of his boot.  
"It will be cleaner up there. Don't worry about it!" she dismissed his annoyed grumblings.  
"Where are all these bottles coming from?"  
"Teenagers come here to drink and... you know." No, he didn't know and he decided that he didn't _want_ to know. Any more knowledge could only make this worse, if such a thing was possible.

They finally reached the top of the hill and the lights of the city spelled out a shimmering grid in front of them, like a mirror of the sky above. It was a clear night, and even the light pollution couldn't diminish the starlight. 

"There to the left is where our house is." she pointed, then went to rest on a rock sticking out of the ground. The ground was indeed cleaner here. It was a steep climb and most people were probably not willing to walk this far if they were just looking for a place to drink. The air seemed cleaner as well, and it was quiet to the point that you could hear the wind through the grass. Maybe it was worth the discomfort to come after all.

He found a flat rock to sit on and crossed his arms over one knee. They stayed in silence for a bit, a hint of long lost peacefulness fluttering in the back of his mind.   
"I like the night." she finally said. Night and early mornings are when everything is the most quiet, and... there is something about the dark that just make you feel more alive somehow. More attuned."  
He had to agree with that, but he was surprised that a mortal would be perceptive enough to become aware of such things. It didn't seem to be in their nature.

He felt the ground. It was just a tad too moist, but he went for it anyway; moved from the rock to lie down on his back in the short grass. The longer he looked the more stars appeared in his vision. Different constellations, different sounds of the night than he was used to. Endless freedom in all directions, so far from the constrictions of a prison cell. He couldn't remember when he'd last watched the sky like this.

Soft steps told him that she was moving closer and settling on the rock next to him.  
"There is an old legend of an angel who was cast down to earth because of his pride." she said dreamingly.  
"Are you trying to tell me something?" She looked down at him and smiled.  
"I think it was more than pride in your case." She pointed to the sky. "He's associated with the planet Venus; the morning star. It was said that the angels were created from flames, but the creator god then made humans out of clay and demanded that the angels worship and admire his latest creation. This angel, however, was too proud for that and refused."  
"And...?" He wasn't sure why the story caught enough of his interest to ask.  
"He was exiled, along with everyone who was loyal to him. The sad thing is... he didn't do anything wrong; he was just too proud to play along with the game and flatter God's ego."

They stayed in the silence, feeling the cool air around them, the grass and rocks beneath and with the words of her story remaining like a whisper in his haunted mind. 

_Too proud to play the game..._

On the way down she slipped and almost fell, but he managed to catch her before she hit the ground and for the briefest of moments he held her against his body, just so she could regain her footing. It left a strange emptiness behind when he let her go.


	8. Magical surge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing these scenes, so I hope you enjoy reading them as well.

"Loki, stop pestering my neighbors!" Whatever he was doing, she didn't like the look on his face. "I have to live with these people."   
She marched through the garden in seconds and grabbed his arm. It didn't budge him one inch. With a impish smile on his lips he kept caressing the scrawny rose bush by the hedge as it's branches visibly grew longer and reached for her neighbor's back door. There was a greenish light flickering between his hands as the thorny limbs grew thicker, wrapped themselves over the doorframe and started to fill in the entrance with smaller, twisted branches.

"I thought you said you were a mortal now?" she insisted. "Mortals don't do stuff like that."  
"Turns out I can still use some very basic magic. I just want to see how far it extends." He was positively delighted, biting his lower lip as he concentrated.  
"That's 'very basic'? What can you do when you're not restricted? That's when he finally turned to face her, looking more happy and miscievous than she'd ever seen him up to this point.  
"Oh, you have no idea, my dear!"

\---

"You know, next time Jehovah's witnesses are at the door I'm going to let you deal with them." she said as they reentered the house. "Turn them into toads, or something."  
"That may be beyond my capabilities right now." he admitted, grinning. "But I'm sure I can think of something."  
"Be creative, that's all I ask." She ventured into the kitchen to continue whatever she'd been doing before joining him outside. "I tried scaring them off by opening the door butt naked, but that only seemed to encourage them."  
He gave her a questioning look, realised that she may well be serious, and proceeded to erase the image her words conjured in his mind. 

\---

"I shouldn't be around royalty." she said as they were having dinner. "I can't behave." He lifted an eyebrow.  
"What do you mean?" She shrugged.  
"I don't have it in me to be sophisticated. And believe me, I've tried."  
"Frigga was clearly taking to you. I am certain that she had a hand in this... arrangement."  
"Yeah, and I don't get it. Why would she want me anywhere near you?" Loki made a face:  
"Better ask why she'd want me near you. I don't have a pretty history with mortals. She's basically risking your life."

She pondered that, then caught his gaze.  
"You realize that you have to find a way to pay the rent yourself if you get rid of me, right?"  
He made a most undignified snort and struggled not to laugh. It wasn't even that funny. Yet it was, in a twisted way.

\---

She parked her bike and brought in the groceries, just to drop them at her feet.  
"Oh, my god! What are you wearing?" 

Loki stood right in the middle of the floor, dressed in some kind of elaborate outfit consisting of leather, fabric, armour pieces and... a helmet with long curved horns on. The living room seemed a lot smaller around him than it normally did. He turned to look at her and slowly the image faded and shimmered like a mirage till he was back in his normal clothes. He seemed pleased with her reaction.  
"Just another little thing I can still do." he announced with barely hidden satisfaction. "It requires more concentration than before, but it's a start."

"Is that what you normally wear? Seriously?" She picked up her bags, happy that the eggs hadn't been at the bottom, and carried them to the counter.  
"That... depends on the occasion." he answered and joined her in the kitchen, clearly in a good mood. She couldn't help it; she found him irresistibly charming when in a good mood. It made her wish he would show that side more often. Not that she could blame him for... other moods.

He sniffed the fruit she'd bought and decided on an apple. She watched him fondly. His long, black hair, slightly curling despite all attempts to tame it. His high, sharp cheekbones and emerald eyes with dark lashes...

_I think I'm falling in love. Oh crap!_


	9. Visitation

She was working at her desk when Loki's voice reached her from the front door.  
"What in the name of Hel are you doing here?"  
"I come to see how you're faring, brother."  
"I am _not_ your brother. How dare you even come here? Is it not enough that I'm being spied on, being _watched_ , at all times?"

_Oh-oh. That sounds explosive. I'd better check._

She found Loki in the hallway, tight as a bowstring, and Thor outside, facing him with calm gravity.  
She greeted him politely, and he answered in kind.  
"I'm here to speak with the two of you, to hear how..."  
"Well, you are not speaking to me!" Loki stalked off, slamming a fist against the wall as he passed. Luckily the wall was concrete, it didn't make much of a mark. She heard the backdoor to the garden slam shut.  
"So..." she said, facing Thor. "What can I do for you?"

\---

They stayed at the front of the house, letting him in would have agitated Loki too much, and she'd rather avoid that. It was quiet enough for a conversation, the small street barely carried any traffic.

"I hope it's not burdening you too much, having him here?" he asked, seriously concerned.  
"Not really; he's not a bad company." Thor looked at her like he didn't quite believe it.  
"I did not want to put you at such risk. None of us wished you to come to harm.  
"Well, you sent him here, didn't you?"  
"It was not intended that he'd move in and live with you."  
"No? Remember what happened the first time I met him? I took him in because he needed somewhere to stay, even if it's just for a bit. That's what I do, and I'm not going to apologize for it."  
He nodded, accepting.  
"I understand."

_No, you don't._

"I only wish you to be aware" he continued. "...that Loki is not to be trusted. He is my brother, and I do... still... care about his wellbeing, but I know better than to trust anything he says. Or does. If he comes to be a threat to you, he will be removed from your presence and dealt with. You have my word on this."

The words made her feel really uneasy inside. She realised they weren't meant as a threat , but as a reassurance, but it didn't feel comforting to know that they could just decide to snatch Loki away without him, or her, having a say in it. She began to understand why he was so upset about being watched.

\---

She found him back at the common area, beyond the gardens, sitting with his back against a tree and not looking angry as much as... beat.  
"He's gone", she announced, crouching beside him. "And he was never inside the house."  
"What did he really want?" Loki asked, eyes still closed.  
"To check if I was alright." she said honestly. "Appearantly they hadn't expected me to take you in as a house guest." Loki made an attempt at a twisted smile.  
"Of course..."  
"So now I feel like a teenager with adults telling me I don't know what I'm doing. Frankly thought I'd never have to deal with that crap again." Loki laughed bitterly.  
"Oh, they are very good at that."

\---

They were walking along a minor street with small, well-kept gardens on both sides. She had insisted that he'd learn to orient himself in the neighborhood, but it was really an excuse to get him out of the house before he became unbearable again. The visit earlier had also rattled her a bit and she needed to walk it off.

"Have you ever used magic to get back at people when they irritate you?  
Loki moistened his lips and smiled slightly.  
"That has been known to happen..."  
"I would love to do that," she said with emphasis. "It was a childhood dream of mine."

He gave her a look that might have been curious. When Loki wasn't in the middle of an emotional crisis he was very hard to read and she had to wonder what was going on in his head at times. It was also weird to see him swing between angry shouting mood and "I'm completely unfazed and slightly amused by this". The man was a fucking riddle, full of contrast and she didn't know where to start to figure him out.

_And this is what I fall in love with. I never go for the easy ones, do I?_

"I don't mean doing anything serious," she clarified. "Just having them do something embarrassing, like dropping their pants in public. Some people deserve that."  
He cocked his head.  
"There are more elaborate things you could do."  
"Like having their door blocked by thornbushes? What did my poor neighbor do to you?"  
He smiled knowingly.  
"Nothing much. He just needed a bit of... correction."


	10. Revelations

She was hanging laundry in the garden, taking advantage of the sunshine, when Loki stepped out wearing nothing but his pants. That was unusual; he was not normally the kind of person to walk around with minimal clothing. Well, that would give the neighbors something to talk about.

"I'm not finding any clean shirts." he announced, looking at her with expectation.  
"Well, these won't be dry for a few hours..." she pondered with eyes on the clothing line. "I may have an oversized T-shirt somewhere that you can wear in the meantime."  
"I may need more clothes."  
"You may." she agreed. "How long have you been wearing those pants?"   
"It's the only pair I have."  
"You definitely need more clothes."

What she remembered most of that conversation was that his wounds had healed and left very little scaring, and, though still too skinny, he had started rebuilding some muscle. Not a bad look at all.

\---

He should be annoyed. He really should. If anybody else had been doing the same thing he would be annoyed out of his wits, and he had absolutely no idea why he wasn't now. It was an assault on the senses and, frankly, on culture itself.

The crazy mortal woman liked to sing, especially when doing her household chores. What she lacked in voice she made up for in enthusiasm, and there were times when it got really loud. Like now, when she was by the stove cooking and got carried away; standing there with her arms raised in the air, shouting:  
"...and like a sinner before the gates of heaven I come crawling home back tooo...youuuu..."

It was not just her taste in music; much of it was actually tolerable. She just had a way of throwing herself full force into things when enjoying them. No subtlety, no inhibition. The house was too small for this. People could probably hear her out on the street. 

Norns, he was even considering to bed her, just to see if she was as enthusiastic in that as in everything else.

"...like a bat out of heeelllll...." it resounded from the kitchen.   
He winced. But still couldn't find it in him to feel annoyed.

\---

"I'm going over to a friend's house for a while." she announced, going through the contents of her purse. "I'm going to help her clip the claws of her cats, and then I'll probably hang around drinking some wine. I should be back by evening."  
He made an acknowledging hand gesture from the coach where he was sitting, absorbed in one of her books. Evidently he had discovered "Game of Thrones".  
"I would invite you." she said, "but it's kind of a girls' thing: no men allowed. Not even divine ones."  
He smirked at that, seemingly not bothered by being left behind. She smiled a little, watching him, and then she took off.

\---

She was barely out of the house when he started getting bored. Normally he enjoyed solitude, even craved it at times. The house was small and they were only apart when she went off to do errands or anything related to her freelance work as a writer. He should be happy to have the place to himself for a change.

Restlessly he searched through the fridge for something to eat, then proceeded to the freezer. She always had some of that earthly treat called ice cream in there. It was almost too sweet for his taste but right now...

He watched in horror before snatching his hand back. His nails were turning black. And underneath... the blue shade was seeping through his skin like a tide of venom. He immediately stepped back and slammed the door shut, waiting, hoping, for the color to subside. It took way too long to get back to normal.

How was this possible? Her freezer shouldn't be cold enough to cause this. Not in a couple of seconds certainly.  
Unless... Clearly he wasn't made completely mortal, since he could still use that most basic spark of magic. Maybe this was the reason they hadn't stripped him of everything; doing that would also have removed his glamour and he would never have been able to fit in among the mortals that way. But the change might have weakened it... so it took less to reveal his true form.

He recoiled at the thought. What when the winter came? What if it got really cold in this part of the world? No, it was not likely. The display on the freezer said 18 degree celcius and they were not that far north. It still left him uneasy, but also immensely grateful that he had been alone when discovering this. The circumstances could have been way, way worse.

Not going near the freezer again he found a piece of her favourite Italian salami instead and sliced it up to snack on. She would be annoyed that it was all finished, but that he could live with. That would be her punishment for abandoning him like this.

_What am I thinking? I'm a grown man. I don't need company every second of the day. Let her have some fun of her own. Drinking wine... talking about... whatever mortal women talk about when they're together. Maybe they'll even decide to go into town. Dancing... and... flirting with..._

If that had been an Asgardian knife he would have sliced his finger clean off. He cursed and tried to focus. It was not like him to be this careless with sharp objects. Daggers and throwing knives where his weapon's of choice for Bor's sake. 

He glanced at the mobile phone she'd got him. No, he was not going to humiliate himself or ruin her fun time with friends just because he wanted reassurance like a needy child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song referred to is Meat Loaf's "Bat out of hell", and yes, I do sing like that.


	11. Intoxication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things heat up... and you're trying to stay cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspirational to write. I might have been channeling. (God of mischief chuckles in the background)

"Where's my favorite god of mischief?" He raised his eyebrows at that greeting. She sounded... even more over the top than usual. He stood up, inadvertantly glancing at his fingers.

_Don't let her ever find out what I really look like._

"I take it you had a good time? he asked, noticing her smiling face as she approached him.  
"Oh, it was great! We watched a really funny movie too. A love story about a green ogre. How have you been?"  
"I've..." before he knew what was happening she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He froze.

_Just how much wine has she been drinking?_

And she wouldn't let go either; she just stood there, indulging, the side of her face against his neck and collar bone, and, as far as he could tell, she was still smiling. This was doing things to him that he didn't appreciate.

_Oh no! You will not do this to me right now!_

At least she wasn't off flirting with someone else, as he had feared. That thought still managed to pinch his inside in a painful way.

_Why do I care? She can flirt with anybody she wants._

That pinching again. The whole situation was awkward and he should put a stop to it.

His pants, in particular, were starting to feel uncomfortably tight, but he couldn't make himself push her away. Then she would see how he responded to her closeness. And if he let her stay she would feel it. There was no way to win this battle. He took a deep breath and reluctantly put his hands on her back in response, then just stood with eyes closed and felt his heart racing.

_This is not a good idea. It is not. Nowhere in the nine realms is this a good idea._

He just wished he could remember why it wasn't. It had something to do with her being mortal, but he wasn't sure what his reasoning around that had been. Technically he was a mortal too, mostly, so it shouldn't matter. Or maybe it was about them being watched. Even if he could conjure enough magic to cloak them from Heimdall right now, his infuriating "brother" would be here in an instant to check what was going on. There was no way to win that battle either.

She was speaking again:  
"I know you're badass, but you're really a sweetheart deep inside."  
Oh right, that's just what he wanted to hear.  
"I am not."

She just smiled broader and nuzzled his neck. Thrills went down his spine. Blood pooled in his loins. If he didn't put a stop to this soon there was no telling what he might do. His hand was in her hair, however it ended up there, and he pressed his lips to her temple. She purred happily. She smelled like a mix of sweat, red wine and... butter candies? The combination was intoxicating. He ran his lips along her hairline, to her ear and kissed it softly. She shivered. 

He held her tighter, touching his mouth to her cheekbone, to a spot next to her nose, to her eyelid. His hand went to her backside, pressing her against him to soothe the ache he felt down there, but it only made it worse. He kissed the other side of her face, her cheek, just to feel her soft skin under his lips. He moved his mouth to just under her ear, nibbling softly, tasting. She squirmed under his touch and it made him more eager.

_Why am I doing this? They will disapprove. They will rip me away, back to the dungeons, and I will never see her again._

Suddenly he felt her hand on his neck, in his hair, her fingers caressing sensitive skin. It felt like electrical currents, making him breathe way too fast and shallow. He sought her mouth and tasted the sweet wetness between her lips as she parted them to let him in. He was not far from coming undone right then and there, and wouldn't that have been embarrassing. Like some Midgardian teenager who couldn't control himself.

He deepened the kiss and she was all too happy to reciprocate. His hands wandered in under her clothes and carressed the warm, soft skin on her back. He couldn't get enough of how she felt, her taste, her scent. It was like this - his - mortal was made of sensual pleasures and he could just pull her close and sink into it. Sink into her.

They were right next to the couch and he turned her towards it, lowered her down till she was on her back happily looking up at him. She clearly didn't mind this turn of events. Was there anything she would mind? Anything at all? He had almost expected her to start protesting at this point. Instead she embraced him and pulled him down atop of her, tracing his neck with kisses, gentle strokes of her lips. It was almost more than he could handle.

Actually feeling her body lying under him was too much to handle. It was way too long since he'd indulged in anything remotely sexual with another person. Although he had briefly considered bedding her it hadn't been a very serious thought; he had certainly not expected her to agree to it.

_It's the wine. It has to be. Hurry before it wears off!_

He winced at such ridiculous thoughts, but his hands were already removing both their clothing, anything that was in the way, till he felt her naked skin against his own. He indulged in the feeling for a second, before she ran her hands through his hair and kissed him. Her knees were on both sides of his hips, partially pulled up, and it was so easy to just guide himself inside, so easy. Waves of pleasure went through him.

_Not yet, not yet. Just... really slow._

She didn't make it easy for him though, and he had to hold her hips still to control the pace. That just seemed to excite her more and she lifted her legs up to wrap them around him and then she licked his ear and... he just lost it.  
It was raw, sweet bliss to let the built up energy intensify and course through his body and he was only vaguely aware of how fondly she was looking at him at that point. All he cared about was to feel it and have it last as long as possible. And then... relax into her arms and not worry about a single thing.


	12. Remorse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things are not what they seem.

When he woke up they had somehow switched places so she was lying on top of him, head resting on his chest and an arm wrapped along his side and under his shoulder. He was on his back, which wasn't totally comfortable since the couch was too short this way and he either had to bend his knees or rest his ankles on the armrest. The back pillows were also still in place which limited the space they could lie on. No wonder he woke up so quickly.

Then the thought hit him:

_What have I done?_

She had been happy enough to reciprocate, but that may not last once sobriety set in. At best she might decide to kick him out, at worst... There could be a knock at the door any moment, a furious Thor on the other side. Taking advantage of a drunk mortal... This was just great! He should really have more self control than this, especially when his freedom was on the line. What in Bor's name had gotten into him?

It certainly wasn't her fault, however much he wanted to put the blame elsewhere. The hug she had given him had been tight but perfectly chaste; an expression of fondness, nothing more. Why did he have to go and get all hot and excited just because somebody _touched_ him? He groaned internally. This could hardly get any worse.

Yes, it could. Her breath was warming his skin in a very sensual way, and she was lying right on top of his...

_No, we are not going there again!_

He tried to carefully wiggle out of the dangerous position but of course that woke her up and he froze, bracing himself for the inevitable. And suddenly the loss pierced him through like a sharp, jagged blade, aimed at the heart. He didn't have much to pack and with a little effort he could find somewhere else to live. He was not so ridiculously ignorant of the human world as his oaf of a brother had been, and he could be very resourceful when needed. But without her wanting anything more to do with him... that pained him more than anything. It made him curse himself for being so careless.

_I am sorry. Damn it! Damn it! How could I be so stupid?_

He winced and felt hopelessly, shamefully pathetic till he caught the look on her face. It was not the look of someone who was getting ready to kick his ass out. It was more like... the look she wore when she first hugged him, adoring smile all over her face. She surely couldn't be inebriated _still_?

She shifted, sending a shiver through his groin, and supported herself on her arms while looking down at him. And then she kissed his cheek, softly, lovingly, and he was not sure how to respond to that, or to her fingers gently caressing his hair. Something was going on here that he wasn't ready to recognize, and it created a jumbled mess of emotions that he couldn't begin to untangle. At least he was fairly sure that she wasn't drunk anymore.

He gently pushed her away and managed to sit up, then got stuck there with his face in his hands, struggling to find something to say. Naturally, this _had_ to be the moment his infamous silver tounge got tied.

"What's wrong?" she asked, a hand on his back. "Got cold feet?"  
"What?"

There, he finally got a word out. Not a very intelligent one, but still...

"It's an expression. Means having regrets, wanting to back out of something. Was it really that bad?"  
"No!"

Great, another single word. At this pace he might well graduate to whole sentences before morning.

"I... I didn't mean to..."  
"To what?" She started looking worried.  
"To take advantage of you."   
"Well, you didn't." She seemed genuinely confused. "Why would you think that?"  
"Why? Because you had been drinking! You came home and started hugging me!"  
"I hadn't been drinking that much." Now she sounded almost offended. "Most was wearing off by the time I was home anyway."  
"What?"

_More intelligent syllables. She must be seriously impressed with my wits right now._

"Alright," she said. "I admit I may not have hugged you if I hadn't been a little tipsy, but I was hardly _drunk_." He kept staring at her, not sure what she was saying, but he was slowly starting to feel like an idiot.

Reluctantly he agreed to move to the bed. Whatever was going on did not need to be solved right now, it was all dark outside, and she was appearently not going to reject him in the next few hours at least. She actually nestled into his arms, all cuddly and affectionate, and he let it happen. It was pleasant, admittedly, and he was too tired, too confused, and too damn overwhelmed to even begin sorting out the implications. So he slept instead, leaving it all for tomorrow.

And from now on his self control was restored: there would be no more stupid missteps.


	13. No more regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music suggestion: You - Groove Coverage

He had a most erotic dream, disturbingly real, and woke pressed against a soft, willing body, while his own was betraying every resolution he'd had before going to sleep. It was like every single power in the universe had conspired to bring him down. His privates rested against her thighs, the very same thighs she had wrapped around him last night, and that was a _dangerously_ arousing thought. He could feel her breasts against his chest, moving as she was breathing, her mouth against his neck, his own hand tracing, almost by itself, her hip and backside.

There was not a single way he didn't want this woman, and he would happily go back to a cell if he just could have her in every such way first.

_Damn!_

His priorities were all wrong, and he knew it, _he knew it_ , but it didn't make a difference. If they were going to come for him at least he was going to make it worthwhile first. Seriously worthwile.

He lowered his mouth to her neck, sucking in the skin between his teeth. He pressed himself against her and felt her stir and wake up in his grip. She didn't object as his hand stroke along her back, gently yet eagerly massaging it. She didn't fight him as he lifted her leg up over his hip and pressed his bloodfilled erection against her warmth. It never was the wine, was it? It had only made it easier to cross that line between what was and... now.

She wrapped a hand around the back of his head, seeked out his mouth and kissed him sleepily. It sent thrills through his body, radiated pleasure. She did this because she wanted him; there was no doubt. They could hardly blame him for that. Unless they thought he had used some kind of attraction spell on her, but that would be beyond his capacity for now, and he sincerely hoped they knew that.

She moved against him and he answered, half closed eyes, hand on her thigh, pushing against her and pulling back. He flicked his tounge over the sensitive skin on her neck and she moaned into his ear. With his fingers he checked if she was ready and began pushing himself inside, deeper with every thrust. She was running her nails down his back, not hard enough to hurt, just creating a tingling sensation that mixed with everything else.

Her face looked like she genuinely revelled in this, lost in the sensation, focusing on the feeling of him inside and around her. Thinking there might still be some of his fluids deep inside her since last night was exceedingly thrilling . He would fill her again. Pushing deep he felt his peak creeping closer. She angled herself to feel the most of his movements against her, he realised, and took care to press into her sweet spot with every thrust till she trembled and quickened her breath.

Being close he pushed her onto her back and pinned her down, one hand under her hip to keep her angled right, the other grabbing her wrist and holding it in place. It felt delicious to have her pinned like that, to be in control while invading her body thoroughly. He licked and sucked at her neck, to arouse her as much as himself, and felt her tightening around him, and then he pushed deep again and again, buried his teeth into her skin, his fingers into her hip and let the liquid fire in his loins release and run it's course till he was thoroughly and utterly satisfied. And this time he regretted nothing.

\---

There was no knock on the door. She wasn't sure what he meant when he told her to wait for one, but it never came. And as hours passed and nothing happened he seemed to relax.

She was lingering in bed with Loki for hours, holding him, nuzzling his neck, running fingers through his hair. He didn't seem to mind the affections, though he was more inclined to turn it in a sexual direction. Either way it was wonderful.

_I love you, you know. I'm not gonna say it just yet, but I do._

She found his lips and kissed him playfully, explored his body with eyes and hands. She'd seen him naked months ago, that day in Asgard, but that was not the same. Now she had personal feelings invested and everything felt different. The sight was enticing, the physical contact a delight to be savoured.

She put a hand over his emerging erection and traced the silky skin with her fingers, tasted the skin on his neck, closed her eyes to feel his face against hers. His mouth touched her ear, whispering exciting things while brushing his lips against it. She breathed in his scent, burying her nose into his neck and hair. She could remain like this forever, taking in every little bit of pleasure his closeness gave her. Enjoyable didn't begin to describe it. It was divine.

And it was just the beginning.


	14. Halloween night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music suggestion: Footloose - Kenny Loggins

Kevin came by the door to talk about the upcoming party. He was an acquaintance who dated one of her friends. Way into the conversation he paled slighty and asked insecurily:  
"Who is that?" She looked behind her. Loki was standing in the hallway, leaning sideways on the wall with crossed arms. He had a dark, threatening look in his eyes.  
"He's a friend. He's staying here for now," she explained. Kevin lifted a hand in akward greeting but Loki just kept staring him down.  
"Ehm... so we'll get you those things and... I'll see you around." She barely had time to say goodbye before he fled.

"Who was that?" Loki asked sternly when she turned from the door.  
"Just a guy I know. Why are you acting like that?"  
"How do you know him?"  
"Friend of a friend. Why?"  
"He seemed a little too interested." His eyes narrowed.  
"No, he didn't. Are you jealous?" Loki snorted and took on a haughty stance.  
"Do I need to be?" She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  
"You're not gonna scare off every man who comes into this house. I'll have friends coming over next week and at least two of them will be guys..."  
"Who's the other one?" Voice like a whip.  
"He's gay!" she blurted out. "Or bi... pan... I don't know, never mind." This conversation was going from akward to ridiculous fast. She had never imagined a reaction like this from simply having a male visitor. He hadn't even been inside the house. And Loki could look _very_ intimidating when he wanted to. 

_Run, Kevin. I'll be surprised if I ever see you again._

"And how are you going to explain me? To your friends."  
"Well, we can hardly tell them the truth, but if they ask about your name, tell them your parents were into Scandinavian mythology or something. They'll love that."

Now this was going to be interesting.

\---

She didn't have many friends, but the ones she had were just as peculiar as she was. If he didn't know better he would think all Midgardians were some freaks of nature.

They showed up in black clothes referred to as "gothic" with skulls and crosses all over, and the one with purple hair and a silvery nose ring kept staring at him for a full hour, like _he_ was the odd one. When he finally snapped and asked:  
"What?" the girl smiled cheekily and said:  
"I never thought she would let a guy she's fucking move in. You must be really something if she wants you around 24/7. Are you from another planet or something?"

_What in Hel's name do you answer to that?_

And then they wanted to watch a movie named "Ghostbusters" while eating some kind of sickenly sweet puffs called marshmallows. They turned on loud music , which he luckily was pretty desensitized to by now, and began dancing randomly in the small space. There were multicolored drinks that effected him more than he had expected, probably because of his near mortal state, and he ended up making out with his lady of choice against the kitchen wall. Coming dangerously close to dropping his pants too, which would have been unfortunate since people kept walking in and out of said kitchen with regular intervals. (He could have sworn that somebody pawed his backside in passing.) Not that anybody else seemed to have inhibitions.

He had seen his fair share of wild celebrations over the centuries, often with his brother somewhere in the center of it, but this was different. This party was small and intimate and dominated by women who giggled and gave him funny looks when he passed them.  
"Oh yeah, watch him walk."

_Seriously?_

It was a most... interesting display of Midgardian culture and he wouldn't soon forget it.

They called it Halloween night.

By the time it was over he was exhausted from overload and fell asleep in her arms without even finishing what they'd started in the kitchen. The last thing he remembered was her fingers stroking his hair out of his face, gently and loving as always.

\---

He woke up in the early morning hours by a voice from the doorway:  
"Hey, psst!"  
She stirred in his arms and lifted her head to look at the voice's owner. It sounded like the purple haired girl from last night, and she whispered very loudly:  
"I'm sorry Kev and I had sex on your couch. We're leaving now. Great party, by the way. See ya!"  
"No probs. See you later." Footsteps in the hallway ended with the frontdoor slamming shut. She just nestled her nose back into his neck like nothing unusual had happened.

_Other people having sex on her couch. Please tell me that wasn't a regular occurence before I moved in here and started sleeping on the thing!_

He hadn't even realized that not all the guests had left. Once he got out of bed he would do a thorough search of the perimeter to make sure they were actually alone. The last thing he wanted was another fancy-colored head popping into the bedroom at an inopportune moment.

\---

With disgust he turned the couch cushions before sitting down.

_I don't care that we've done the same thing. It's our home! And I will have these cleaned if it's the last thing I do._

Our home. That thought slipped into his mind by itself. A sure sign that he was either going insane or had been here too long. This was not his home. His was... nowhere. Asgard, where he once thought he belonged, was a lie. Jotunheim had discarded him the day he was born. He finally sat and looked around. Bookshelves filled to the point of breaking, paintings of dark angels on the walls, remains of yesterday's party scattered over the room. In the face of everything... this was as close to a home he had now. And for some far out reason he didn't feel pathetic when realizing it.


	15. Tension

When she walked through the garden a voice sounded from the neighboring lot:   
"Hey!" She turned to see her 50-year-old neighbor on the other side of the hedge. He didn't look happy.  
"Yes?" He gestured with angry hand movements.  
"You keep your boyfriend out of my property!"  
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said innocently.  
"Don't you think I know he had something to do with blocking my door a while back? All kinds of crazy shit happens here after he showed up."  
"I'm sure he's not responsible for every...."  
"You keep him out!" he shouted, clearly trying to be intimidating, then turned to his door. "Fucking arabs," he muttered as he entered.

She extended her middle finger after him before moving on to her own door.

_Fucking bigot._

\---

"Are you feeding them?" She turned her eyes from the happily eating ravens.  
"I thought they might be hungry if they come all the way from Asgard."  
Loki didn't know whether to feel flabbergasted or exasperated at her answer.  
"They take care of themselves. I you feed them they'll never leave."  
"But that's a good thing. Then they stay here, happy and fat, and they won't go back and report on us."  
He pinched the bridge of his nose.

_Mortal logic._

"I would appreciate if you stay away from them. Please!" he added, in a futile attempt to bend her to his will. Of course it wouldn't work. First opportunity she would be out there with food again. See a needy beast and she'll be all over it. It was a miracle she hadn't set up a wildlife refuge in her damn garden.

"Would you rather I feed you?" she asked, cheerfully teasing.  
"I'm quite satisfied since lunch, thank you."  
"You seem a little cranky."  
"Can you take anything seriously?" His patience started wearing thin.  
"I've never been very good at that," she admitted sweetly. "But I'm not sure you are either. My neighbor cornered me earlier... He claims 'crazy shit is happening' ever since you moved in. Is there something you want to tell me?" He hesitated for a moment.  
"I assure you I haven't done anything to harm your neighbors."  
"You're called God of Mischief for a reason."  
"And I should probably not have told you of that particular title."

He had done... things. It had mainly been an outlet for stress, as well as searching for the boundaries of his limited magic. Of course the halfwit mortal next door was too much of a coward to approach him directly and went for her instead. That was not something he had foreseen. It needed to be dealt with.

And the tension he'd been feeling all day needed to be dealt with as well.  
"Bedroom. Now!" he said and grabbed her arm.

Once there he simply pushed her on the bed and stripped her pants off. She put up some playful resistance before he managed to pin her down and get rid of the garment. Then he straddled her.  
"Undress me!" he demanded. She happily obliged; stripped his upper body and ran her hands over his sides in the process, then opened his pants and pulled them down over his hips. That was as far as they'd go unless he wanted to get off her, and he had no plans for that just yet. She stroke her fingers over his bare belly and down to his privates, embracing him with warm, soft hands. It was very pleasant and quite... encouraging.

Then he took hold of her hands and moved upwards on her chest. Pinning down her wrists he leaned forward till she could recieve him in her mouth and began moving slowly. He took care not to go too deep. Closing his eyes he savoured the feeling. If he knew her right she would soon be more than ready.

When it felt like he couldn't resist going deep anymore he moved off and made her turn around, separating her legs around his knees and pulling her hips towards him. His fingers seeked out her warmth and the slick wetness he was looking for. More than ready, indeed. He bent down to kiss her neck.  
"Now, you can fight me if you want, but I won't stop until I'm done."  
"Yes, love."

_Don't giggle now, or it will kill the mood!_

He pushed inside while letting his long, sensitive fingers slide between her folds, searching for the spot that would make her moan and shiver under his grip. She was indeed in this like in her singing; not hiding anything, completely open in every moment felt. It was arousing beyond words to see such a response to what he did to her.

When feeling close he pulled her up and held her against his chest, nibbling on her ear, running his lips along her neck in passion. His fingers dug into her thigh as he pushed deep and hard and forced her to the edge.

He held her tightly as she trembled and whimpered, then bit into her shoulder as his own release washed over him, dissolving all tension and replacing it with a sweet, balmy coolness. 

_Yes. This. This is what i need._

He remained still for a while, feeling both their heartbeats and savouring the after feeling. She turned her head a bit towards him and spoke with a soft voice:  
"I love you." He closed his eyes, pursed his lips. Held her tighter against his own body.

_Yes, I know. You're like an open book. And you don't care who reads it._


	16. Dark thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your past catches up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry but... angst.

She was already aware that he didn't sleep well. Sounds carried between living room and bedroom. Once he had even fallen off the couch and landed on the floor after startling awake in the middle of the night. The noise and subsequent cursing had been telling enough. Now, sharing a bed, it was obvious just how bad things were. That first night - part night - had been free of nightmares. Not the ones after. Tossing, jerking, whimpering, high speed breathing, moaning... Any normal person would have sent him back to the couch out of pure self preservation.

He _did_ sleep better after sex admittedly, but only for a few hours. Then it all started again. She would put a hand on his face to gently nudge him out of it and it usually worked, but it didn't keep new nightmares from arising. Occasionally he would also lash out upon awakening so she learned to keep some distance when touching him. One slap to the face was enough, thank you very much.

She had always assumed the nightmares were connected with whatever he'd been subjected to during his imprisonment, but she really didn't know much about Loki's past. He seemed reluctant to tell her much of anything, and what queen Frigga had conveyed was limited. The more she got to know him the more she longed to find out. Why did he land himself in the dungeons to begin with? The reasons were more than vague. Why attack a city on Earth of all places? And all this anger and bitterness that flared up with irregular intervals... Where did it come from?

All loose pieces that didn't fit anywhere when she didn't have the underlying picture. Living in the now wasn't enough. She needed answers.

\---

"Could you get me the peas from the freezer?" She was at the counter preparing dinner, and he just happened to be there, getting a glass of water.  
"What?"  
"The freezer. Green peas in a bag."  
"Ah..." He looked at the freezer with distaste. No way he wanted to go near that thing, but naturally he couldn't tell her why.  
"Which shelf?"  
"Ehm... second drawer from the top, I think." He took a deep breath, opened the door, pulled out the drawer and searched without touching anything. Locating the bag in question he ripped it out, threw it on the counter and slammed the door shut. Her eyebrows went up.  
"Stressed much?" He mumbled something negative in reply and strode out of the kitchen, almost forgetting his water glass in the process.  
"I get that you're used to servants," she said. "...but we don't have those, and I'm not going to do every bit of work myself when I'm not the only adult here."  
"It is not a problem," he stated, careful not to show her his strained expression. He put the glass down, suddenly not thirsty anymore. "Loki?" Her voice softened but he snapped before he could reign himself in:  
"Be quiet!" Her eyes went wide.  
"Not that tone with me!"

He lifted his hands, tried to say something but couldn't get it out; neither apology nor explanation. How do you explain that you're afraid of the freezer, because it will turn you into a monster? Inwards he laughed bitterly at that thought. Like something out of a child's tale. Pathetic! He had reason to be wary though. The Midgardians may not know what Frost Giants were anymore, but they'd recognize a freak when they saw one. The last thing he needed was for her to shy away from him now. Not now when things were finally settling down in his life and he'd found some peace.

_And deceiving her is better?_

Yes, it was better. What you didn't know would not bother you.

_So she's having intimate relations with a monster without even knowing it._

Eventually he just withdrew to the bedroom, closed the door carefully and sat on the bed, knees up, back against the headboard. He felt embarrassed for himself, and ashamed of being rude to her of all people. She had always been kind, ridiculously so. No matter what he did she'd been patient and gentle and... this may well be the first time entirely that she had snapped back at him.

Staying there his thoughts spiralled deeper. There was no way to outrun his past. Hiding it didn't erase what he was or what he had done. It was already inconceivable how she could know about his actions in New York and not resent him for them. Of course she didn't know _all_ the things that had went down during that event. All the acts committed during his manic stage where every bit of it had seemed justified, and he couldn't say that he wouldn't do the same again given the circumstances.

He suddenly wished it would all just go away. Everything went wrong eventually, no matter what he did or what he wanted. He wished he hadn't met her. He should have stayed in that cell, taken whatever they threw at him. Freedom was overrated; he just broke it anyway. And everybody else thought he belonged there. Maybe they were right, after all.

He wrapped his arms around himself, fists tightly clenched. It helped keeping the pain contained, but not entirely. 

_"Wherever you go there is war, ruin and death."_

He closed his eyes, grit his teeth. Something wet under his eyelids made him drive his nails into his palms, drawing blood, just to distract himself. It didn't help.


	17. Moment of truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for an honest conversation.

When she entered the bedroom it looked like he had dozed off, except he was more or less sitting up, knees curled, with his head and shoulder resting against the headboard. He didn't acknowledge her presence, but she could tell from his breathing in the quiet room that he was, indeed, awake.

She went to sit next to him on the bed, but he kept his back turned.  
"Dinner is ready," she stated. "But I put it on hold for a while. Something tells me you're not up to it right now." He didn't answer, but from the look of things she didn't expect him too. Normally, when upset, he would pace and curse and raise his voice, but this was something else entirely. Something she hadn't seen before. She waited, and when he kept ignoring her presence she took a risk and wrapped her arms around him from behind, leaning against his back. The worst thing that could happen was that he'd push her away, and though it would be hurtful she could deal with it.

"Loki..." He tensed, but didn't reply. "Care to tell me what's going on?" A barely noticable shake of his head. The lights were off, but even with the permanently closed curtains some daylight was seeping in, so she could see his hands being tightly closed into fists.  
"Is this about... what they did to you?" she suggested, not sure where else to start. His jaw tightened.  
"No. I cannot... There are things you don't know."  
"So tell me!" she asked softly. His breathing was strained, like it took great composure to hold himself together.  
"How much cold steel can you take?" he asked with bitterness embedded in his voice.  
"More than you give me credit for, I think." She noticed flakes of dried blood on his palms. He swallowed and uncurled his fists only to bring his hands up and rub his eyes.  
"I cannot do this. You don't know what I've done."  
"Not unless you tell me, no. I know you have a history, but..."  
"I tried to take over your world." His voice suddenly hard. "That doesn't bother you?"  
"I admit it's a bit abstract to me," she said. "I saw video and read about it but... it doesn't really fit with how I know you."  
"I'm not like you!" he lashed out. "You humans... you're so small, so fragile... you have the lifespan of a fly."  
"Thank you for that one," she answered drily. "I don't think that really matters. And you're the same as us right now, whether you like it or not."  
"I am not. Odin couldn't make me completely mortal. That's why I still have my magic to wield."  
"Why couldn't he? I still don't see how you can 'make someone mortal'." He shook his head.  
"I will not attempt to explain. But I am different from others in my realm. If all my powers were to be stripped it would reveal... that I look different as well."  
"Look different? How?" In the middle of everything she was still aware how pleasant it felt to hold his body so close to her own. That was something she could never get enough of.  
"I was adopted... from another realm. I'm different... different all together. What you see is just... It's called a glamour. It hides my true form."

Now that was surprising. And a bit disturbing.  
"Are you gonna tell me you have... tentacles and stuff?" He laughed silently. That was a good sign.  
"It's not like your silly Midgardian movies. My body's overall shape is the same. I just... My colors would be different, and I would be cold. Enough to burn you if you touched me."  
"That sounds... weird. I would have to see it to fully understand it, I guess."  
"This doesn't bother you?" He sounded suspicious.  
"Not really. Tentacles would have bothered me." He snorted. That quiet laughter again. She could feel him shaking. "Do you really think this would bother me? Just because you look different?"  
"It's more than appearance. The people I come from... they are known across the realms to be brutish and uncultivated. Savages who..." His voice trailed off like he ran out of words and he closed himself again. She could feel his muscles tensing up.  
"Is that why you keep it hidden?" she asked carefully. "So people won't know who you are?"  
"It is inherent. I was not aware... of what I was until a short while ago." He still wouldn't turn to meet her eyes or reciprocate her touch. It was like he was ready to bolt at any moment.  
"How did you find out?"

\---

Telling her was painful, but somehow liberating. He had to force the words out, revisiting things he hadn't talked about since... No, he hadn't exactly _talked_ about himself with The Other. The facts had been forced out of him, every weakness exposed and exploited. But that was not a place he was willing to go right now. If she ever asked about _those_ experiences he would have to decide then what to reveal, if anything.

He was not happy revealing anything at all like this, but he realized it was the wisest course of action. He had to give her something. She was aching to know more about him, and it would only lead to frustration if he denied her. If she actually could accept him despite who he was he needed to reward her somehow, keep her from pulling away for some other petty reason. Refusing to give people their answers could be a way to establish power, but it was also a certain way to make them resent you. He was many things, but not stupid. He would not risk what he had here.

So he told her. Not everything. Just enough. And she rested her chin on his shoulder and listened, and her arms were actually quite comforting. He would never understand why she was so infatuated by him, why she was so ridiculously _caring_ , but he would be a fool not to accept it. She was a mortal, but strangely powerful in her own way. He could have sworn that she was slowly healing him just by being who she was. Just by doing what she did.  
And, in all honesty, he held her desperately dear for it.


	18. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you start thinking of possibilities beyond the here and now...

She had suddenly decided to clean the house, which meant turning on loud music and dancing or skipping between areas that needed to be ordered or wiped down. He braced himself. It was just a matter of time before she'd use the "we have no servants" argument and dragged him into it. Perhaps he should just leave for a while; explore the town or take a walk in nature. Before he had a chance to act on that thought however...  
"Loki?" He sighed.

_Here it comes._

"You have better reach than me. Could you do that top shelf? I haven't been up there in ages."

_Wonderful! Years of accumulated dust, most likely._

"Of course, dear."  
Keeping his face in check he climbed up on a chair and did as she asked. And sneezed.

_Damn it!_

It was like being thrown back to childhood and ordered by mother to clean up after a particularly succesful prank. Refusing didn't seem like a valid option. Did Thor's mortal woman ever tell him to clean while being stranded on earth? He doubted it.

There were cobwebs too, long abandoned from the look of it. He couldn't understand why there were so many spiders in this house. She claimed to like them. Probably invited them in.

He was about to climb down again when she handed him a clean rag.  
"Since you're up there, would you mind doing the shelf under it too?"

_Naturally! I'll be stuck here till I've done the entire thing, and then she'll just come up with more tasks to do._

If he just had had access to more of his magic this could be done efficiently enough, but he was still in the process of finding out what did work and what didn't, and of finding some kind of pattern in it. Then, perhaps, he could find a way to restore his abilities, and eventually everything else Odin had taken from him. There must be a way, and if anyone could find it it was him. There were few minds as creative as his own. He just had to be patient and explore every option.

Making someone mortal was not so much about removing anything as it was about blocking certain aspects of your being. Just like you could not "unteach" the magic he once had learned; you could only block his access, supress his ability to wield it. And there was the key. Unleash his magic first and then he could use it to undo the rest.

When they were resting in bed together later he asked her:  
"If I had my powers back and were free to leave, would you follow me?" She was lying with her head on his shoulder, an arm wrapped around his middle, and it still surprised him how much pleasure he took in the feeling of her body against his.  
"I would like to..." she answered hesitantly. "Where would you go?" He rubbed her back with slow motions, more sensual than soothing. He needed some more of their particular intimacy before being completely satisfied.  
"Other realms, I expect." He was vague on purpose, well aware that Heimdall could be listening. This was way into the future, probably years, but Asgardians had long memories. He couldn't afford thinking like a mortal. "If you stay here this is the only world you ever get to see."  
"I've been to Asgard," she reminded him.  
"And just how much did you see when you were there?" He felt her smiling against his chest.  
"Not much," she admitted. "Technically I was not supposed to wander around on my own, so when I met you I was... kind of naughty."

Ah... he should have guessed. Letting a mortal into Asgard was unusual, letting them move around unattended was unheard of. Of course she had broken the rules. Just like when she brought him into her room, hiding him as the fugitive he was. She was no stranger to breaking rules and taking risks, even when alone in a foreign world. Imagine what she could do with someone on her side.

He would have to convince her to come along when the time came. Leaving her here was not an option in case Odin decided to use her as a tool to capture him again. And her lifespan was too short to waste on them being separated. He would lose her soon enough.

He had never planned on getting attached when he came here. Hadn't really planned to let anyone into his heart again after all the lies and betrayals, least of all a lowly mortal. But he couldn't deny it: she stabilized him. He felt calmer, more focused, more functional with her by his side. That made her an asset he couldn't afford to loose. He needed to plan for the long term.

First he had a more immediate need to fulfil however. He turned over and settled between her legs, kissing her deeply as he entered her body, moved in long, slow thrusts while his hands wandered over her soft, delightful skin. She wrapped her legs around him, ran her fingers through his hair and didn't take her eyes of him once he began to unravel. To be embraced this way, to be... loved so unconditionally was more than he could have hoped for. He would not give it up if there was any way to keep her with him, any way to stop time from running out.

Once she was asleep he untangled himself, put on some clothes and walked outside. In the dusk he called to Heimdall:  
"Tell mother I wish to speak to her, that I need her... counsel." Then he returned to the house, to their bed, and settled in for the night, and for the first time in many months he had no nightmares.


	19. Mortality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A motherly visit and a serious topic.

"You can not extend a mortal's lifespan to match you own, Loki." Frigga's voice was compassionate but firm. She sat in their living room, leaned forward and looking at him as she spoke. "There is no known way to do that."  
"But you can extend it with at least a century, maybe more," he insisted. "I know it has been done."  
"That's a long time ago, but yes, you are right. The limitations lie in the frailty of the mortal body. There is simply a limit where life cannot be prolonged anymore. With any means."  
"So what is the limit? One hundred years? Two hundred? It's still more than she has now."  
"I believe the longest that has been done is close to three hundred years, but there is such a thing as quantity of life, and there is quality. Do not confuse the two. However..." She hesitated.

"Yes?" He waited with increasing impatience but took care not to show it.  
"I hesitate to tell you this because I would regret to see your hope be raised only to fall again... This girl... she has ancestry in the north, has she not? He nodded affirmatively:  
"Scandinavian, she says. I do not know to what extent but at least some of her ancestors came from that area."  
"There is a small possibility that she carries genes from other races than her own. Before you were born there was more frequent contact between Midgard and the other realms, mainly Asgard and Alfheim."  
"I know, mother. I've read enough history books on the matter."  
"What the history books mention little of is that there were sometimes intimate relations between Midgardian women and men from the other realms. Children were born. Some of their descendants may well live today." He felt a rising sensation resembling excitement, but didn't dare acknowledge it just yet.  
"What are you saying...?"  
"They would carry dormant genes that can be activated. I doubt Midgardian scientists and healers would recognize their meaning, but if, _if_ , your mortal lady carry these genes it means two things: If you were to have children..."  
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  
"I don't think so, mother." Frost giant _and_ Midgardian? There wouldn't be a single realm in Yggdrasil that would welcome them. He shuddered at the thought.  
"Now, don't make final decisions just yet! There is time still for such. If you were to have children they may well have considerably longer lifespans than the average mortal, especially if those genes were activated."

His "girlfriend", as the Midgardians' preferred term seemed to be, came out of the bedroom, waving happily at them before continuing to the kitchen. Soon after she reappeared with a drink in one hand and a cookie in the other before disappearing back to where she came from. He was grateful for the privacy she left them. He didn't want to bring this up with her until he had at least an idea of the possibilities.

"You said two things." Frigga continued:  
"It also means that were these dormant genes to be made active they could increase the potential for prolonging life. To put it simply; she would be less fragile than the average mortal and her life span could be extended considerably longer."

He didn't know what to say. There were a lot of ifs, he realised that, but it opened up possibilities he hadn't dared dream of.   
"So how would you go about... activating such genes?"  
"First you need to find out if she carries them," Frigga warned him. "That much I can help you with. I can bring back some of her blood for our healers to examine."  
"I would appreciate that."  
"As for activating them... that is more difficult. Your father..." Loki made a face that Frigga luckily ignored. "... would not allow your lady friend back into Asgard, and I have my doubts that he would approve of bringing healers here to perform the procedure. I will try to think of something, but let's deal with one thing at the time. We don't know yet if it even comes to that." He nodded, agreeing. The chances were small, and when had the odds ever been in his favour? Yet... he had nothing to loose in pursuing this route.

Frigga stood.  
"Now I would like to speak with your lady friend and ask what she thinks about all this. Will you please bring her in here so we can talk."  
"Of course."

He started walking towards the closed bedroom door but stopped and turned for a moment:  
"And mother... will you please refrain from mentioning the matter of children?"  
Frigga smiled.  
"As you wish, dear."

\---

She didn't know what to think about this. When Queen Frigga had arrived there had been nothing indicating a more than social visit; it was only natural that Loki wanted to see his mother after months in exile. Now it turned out that he had had something way more specific in mind. She wondered just how long he'd been considering this idea.

It was not that she minded the possibility of a longer life span; the thought was exciting enough. It had just been such a surprise that Loki's mind went in that direction. He showed affection in his own way, but he never talked about love. She wasn't even sure he felt the same way she did. And now, suddenly, he spoke about wanting her along for centuries ahead.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" she asked once they were alone.  
"Are you upset that I didn't tell you beforehand?"  
"No, I'm just... surprised. Are you sure you want me around that long?"  
"It's not that long," he said, smoothly avoiding the question. "And it may not even become an issue. If I'm never freed from this... these mortal chains I will simply grow old and die here."

There was no mistaking the resentment in his voice. She did wonder if it was that simple though, considering everything he had told her. There seemed to be quite some complications to his supposed mortality.


	20. Holding on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear and doubt...  
> Music suggestion: Tired of being sorry - Enrique Iglesias

He had taken the opportunity to ask Frigga about her visions, but as always she wouldn't give out any details.  
"Yes, I did see her and you together, and that she were to have an impact on your life. That is all I will say. You should know better than to ask further." There had been a stern look in his mother's eyes when telling him this, and he knew that look well. No pushing beyond this point.

So he had let it be and moved on to questions she might be more willing to answer. The thought of her visions didn't stop haunting him though. What was it she had seen? Only things that already had transpired, or something yet to come as well? He wished he had the same aptitude for foresight, but that was mother's gift alone and it could not be taught, only inherited.

Watching his mortal woman move about the house (By the norns, was she coddling the ravens again?) he wondered what to make of it all. Was it worth investing this much just for some sentimental attachment? What if it turned out to be the doom of both of them? Hers because she was associated with him, his because the sentiment made him weak. He should know better than to drag a fragile human along on his own twisted path; she would most likely perish before her time whether it could be prolonged or not.

Yet... had it only been carnal pleasure he desired she would have been easily replaceable. Had it been about material comfort and being cared for he could certainly have chosen better. This went deeper, and he was not sure he would ever find anyone who reached into his soul the way she did. Or even wanted to.

_She hasn't seen you at your darkest. Do you still think she will stand by you when that happens? That she won't turn away in horror?_

Yes, she might be naive; humans were bound to be with their limited experience, but she was also resilient. If anyone was to remain with him through the darkness it was her. And whatever the visions may have shown, she had been a vital part of them.

He had allowed himself a weakness, but maybe it was meant to be.

\---

She found him standing in the dark outside, leaned against the wall. He used his remarkable ability of standing totally still, melting into the shadows, and she would probably not have noticed him had she not been so close in the first place.  
"Aren't you cold?" she asked, noticing the lack of outerwear.  
"I'm never cold," he answered without looking at her.  
"Wish I could say the same." She pulled her coat tighter around herself. Winter was coming and she already longed for spring.  
"You should go inside," he said with a softer tone to his voice.  
"Is that what you want? To be left alone?" He turned his head.  
"What?"  
"You're barely talking to me these days, and then you spring this 'prolonging life' thing on me... I don't know what to think. Do you want me around or not? Do you..."  
"Yes!" He was suddenly in front of her with both hands on her arms. "How can you think I do not?" She jerked back from the sudden intensity, then sighed.  
"I'm getting mixed messages, that's all. Half the time I don't know what's going on in your mind as it is. This..."  
"I... apologize." He moved closer and leaned his forehead against hers. "I should not have left you out of my... plans." She put her hands on his waist. The contact felt nice and comforting, but she could also feel the tension in his body when standing like this. He closed his eyes. The grip on her upper arms tightened but he didn't say anything else.

The wall was cold behind her back, and everything was eerily silent, besides a dog barking in the distance. And then she felt his lips on hers. After the initial, soft touch he forced her mouth open and entered it, pushing his tounge inside. He pressed his body tightly against hers till she had trouble breathing and moaned in protest. For a moment he seemed to ignore it, then let go.  
"I cannot lose you," he mumbled before pulling away.  
"You don't have to. But, please, let's go inside. I'm freezing."

They entered the house and locked for the night. Her lips were still tingling from the invasion, and she had a feeling it wasn't over yet. The tension was virtually radiating off him as he walked ahead of her through the house. He could hide his feelings when he wanted to, but this was clearly not a time that he cared, and that usually meant he was severly agitated.

She was heading for the bathroom to brush her teeth, but he stopped her and steered her towards the bed instead.  
"Wait..." He ignored her speaking and embraced her harshly, lowering them both on the bed without letting go.  
"I cannot lose you, and I will not!" He assaulted her mouth again, making it impossible to reply. She was vaguely aware that he was removing clothing between them, but couldn't really focus on anything beyond the pressure of his body and his mouth overwhelming her with unforgiving intensity. Suddenly he hooked her leg under his arm and pressed his hardening length against her sweet spot, making small movements that sent thrills through her core.  
"I will claim you... again and again for as long as we both live... and I will never stop wanting you." And he moved his lips over her face, to her ear and neck, sucking at the skin like he was starved and couldn't get enough. And then he pushed inside of her in one deep movement that was almost painful and began to move in hard, merciless thrusts. He ran his teeth over her collarbone, leaving marks on her shoulder, his hand massaging her breast, the other arm still holding her leg tightly in place, leaving her folds open and exposed.

It was not particularly comfortable but highly erotic.

He kissed her again while locking her in eye contact, then sneeked a thumb, or perhaps a finger, in between them and rubbed right at the right spot and she gasped. She tried to meet his movements but was too tightly held in place and it was sweet agony to be at someone else's mercy like this. She became aware of the rising sensation but couldn't control it, just give in to it, and there was noone else that made her feel like this, and noone else she cared more about than him in that very moment.

The release felt like a rush and a slow-burning fire at the same time and she embraced him tightly to fully feel the closeness. Then he took a few short, broken breaths and stiffened while moaning in a way that sounded almost wounded, and came to rest with his face buried into her neck, the slight moist of tears touching her skin.

_"I cannot lose you."_  
_You won't. And I will not lose you._


	21. Climbing the family tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did my ancestors _do?_

This time, when Thor showed up, he felt more wary than angry. He had no intention of showing his irritation, and the only suitable course of action was to allow his once brother to enter the house. He was well aware that his mortal woman kept her eyes on them the entire time, prepared to jump in if things exploded, and he would rather not have her caught in the crossfire. He'd actually preferred if she hadn't been there at all, but there was no way she would leave under these circumstances.

"Do you have a message from mother?" he asked once they were seated. Thor was looking around with curiousity, and his very presence felt like an invasion of their privacy.  
"I have, brother." And he took out a letter and handed it over. Loki accepted it, rubbed his fingers over it... and suddenly felt cold fear uncoiling like a snake in his belly. What did he think? That things would finally light up for him? That now he found a good thing he would be allowed to keep it? Hardly. Mother had warned him how small the chances were. Nobody knew how many of the dalliances between Midgardians and those of other realms had actually resulted in offspring, or how many descendents of them existed today. And how many of those even carried the genes in question, after so many generations?

He felt a pair of familiar hands on his shoulders.  
"Just open it!" she said. "Whatever it says, we'll deal with it." It sounded so easy. He realised she wasn't half as affected by this as he was. She had so little to loose...

He opened it slowly and began to read.  
"Well?" she asked impatiently. She was hanging over his shoulder but could obviously not dechipher the Asgardian writing, no matter how she kept staring at it.  
"You have... Asgardian genes... _and_ some from Alfheim as well."  
"You're kidding! I'm an elf? That explains a lot."  
"No, you are not," he corrected sternly. "Someone far back in your family tree was." He felt strangely detached. Almost shocked. This was... beyond expectation.  
"And someone was Asgardian. Do you think any of them still lives?"  
"That is perfectly possible," Thor butted in. Our lives span over 5 000 years if we live to old age. Of course not all do, many fall in battle as well; it's an honorable way to end."  
"So... I could actually meet one of my ancestors? If they haven't died in some battle already, that is." Thor nodded, smiling at her enthusiasm and Loki wondered just how much mother had told him. He should be enthusiastic as well, it was just... more than he had expected. He didn't really dare to believe it.

"No frost giants in my family tree?" she whispered, and he shook his head.  
"That would be unlikely."  
"Well, one is enough I guess." She kissed his neck and wrapped her arms around him. Thor was looking on with a mix of amusement and curiousity. It was embarrassing, but not enough to tell her to stop her displays of affection. And...

_She chose me. She may be a crazy mortal who can't behave properly but she wanted me. So keep looking all that you want._

* * *

Thor was just in an annoyingly good mood. For some reason he found the whole situation of Loki's stay in the house and involvement with it's owner both interesting and entertaining. Gone were the worries from a months ago. He couldn't help wondering if mother had something to do with such a shift in attitude. Thor trusted and valued her judgment after all, and if she approved of the situation...

He chuckled when his mortal woman made one of her inappropriate comments and caught Thor off guard. This could actually be pretty funny. Maybe he should convince her to introduce his "brother" to her outrageous friends. Maybe he should have her friends meet his friends... Not that he wanted the idiots three anywhere near his sanctuary, but the confrontation would have been hilarious.

"I will take my leave," Thor finally stated. "Mother will be pleased to hear that you both are well." He put a hand on Loki's neck in the old familiar gesture and smiled, then kissed the mortal's hand and left.

The whole situation left a weird aftertaste and he needed to take a long walk in the cold to clear his head and unwind.

* * *

"They weren't all relationships," he warned her before she got too carried away in her musings.  
"Of course not," she said in sober tone. "Whenever there is a war somewhere a bunch of foreign soldiers show up and romances happen, and some rape too, and then a bunch of unwed mothers are left behind. It's how it always works."

Right. She had at least some knowledge about the real world and it's workings. Not that he had reason to believe her overly romantic, but Midgardians didn't always see things clearly.

"What's interesting..." she continued. "... is that some of those guys may still be around. Some Asgardian warrior or elf who popped into my family tree a thousand years ago might actually still be alive!"  
"Do not expect to meet them though," he cautioned her. "You're not likely to find out their name or be let into Asgard to see them." He had a bit of trouble understanding her fascination with this subject. Romance or rape, it was not likely that such an encounter would stay long in the memory of the average Asgardian. Whatever transpired between her ancestors it would be long forgotten.

_Will she be forgotten by me when this is over? Discarded like other memories that once was thought important, only buried deeper over the centuries till nothing remains of the endearment we had._

That was actually a painful thought. Of course there was no certainty he would live long enough for it to happen, even if he did find a way to restore his immortal powers. Too many enemies, too much chaos. He was not likely to die of old age in a bed.

"I can't get over the life span thing." She was speaking again. "Or how old you actually are." He gave her a look. "I mean how long you lived... Maybe I should stop talking now."  
"I think that would be wise," he said pointedly.

She would _never_ stop talking, or saying unsuitable things. And whatever else could be said she was rarely boring. Most mortals couldn't evoke his interest if they tried; they were a grey mass of herd animals who were all too scared to offend each other. She, on the other hand... was refreshing in her unexpectedness. It had annoyed and confused him on more than one occasion but deep down he had come to appreciate it. She wouldn't stop surprising him and that meant he would never grow weary of her presence.


	22. What you want and what you have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the delay for this chapter. The story is drawing to an end and I don't want to be too abrupt, or sloppy, when wrapping it up.

He needed his books. It was frustrating beyond words to find the boundaries of his magic so quickly. Simple tricks, barely anything else, was available to him. If he had had access to his books he could have searched for clues to lifting his predicament, but now it was like fumbling in the dark. Of course there was no way he could get his hand on them now. He was supposed to live a mortal life and magic was not a part of it. Not even mother would agree to bring those books to him if he asked, so he didn't bother. The less he gave away of what he was planning the better.

It took enourmous, almost painful, concentration to try to break down the wall between himself and his full power and he was forced to stop short of succeeding. They were so close he could almost feel them, yet unreachable. It was dangerous to even try, since he never knew if he was being watched at that particular time, but he couldn't just leave it and rot away in this realm. The first thing he would get back was the ability to cloak himself, so to be able to work in peace.

His mortal woman would be the perfect excuse for wanting privacy from prying eyes. He could just claim that she was uncomfortable with the idea of being watched when they were having an intimate moment. All he needed to do was to cloak her at the same time as himself and nobody would be the wiser. Asgardians were used to Heimdall's all-seeing eyes, but humans were not, he could argue, and insist that they had the right to some basic privacy.

* * *

"What in Hel's name is going on?"  
He found her in the kitchen, waving smoke out the window.  
"Just a little accident," she explained casually. "I got a phone call and forgot to turn off the stove."  
"And that infernal noise?" He'd always had a keen hearing, and this was borderline painful.  
"If you look in the hallway there is a round, white box on the wall. High up. Just open the lid and pull out the battery; that should stop the beeping.

Norns! He quickly went into the hallway and did what needed to be done.  
"You ripped the whole thing off the wall, didn't you? she said when he came back. Then she inspected the content of the blackened pot. "I guess we can forget about couscous for dinner."  
"If we're going to eat anything in here I suggest airing out first," he said with discontent. She nodded slowly.  
"What is the matter?" he asked warily. She seemed more focused on that pot than it deserved.  
"No, I was just thinking..."  
"About?"  
"Mortality and stuff," she admitted. What if you stay... mortal, as you say... if things can't be changed back. What will you do?"

He had avoided dwelling too deeply into that possibility.  
"Then I will have to live out my days here."

She came up to him, taking his hands in hers.  
"I'm sorry," she said, voice empathetic.  
"Don't be!" He rubbed her hands with his thumbs. "If it really comes to that... it won't be so bad."  
"No?" she sounded doubtful. But it was true, however excruciating it was to think that he might not be able to escape his sentence, not be able to take back control of his life. If there really was nothing else to be done...  
"Not if I'll still have you."

* * *

And whose great idea was it to send Sif to deliver a message? Thor was obviously occupied elsewhere or he wouldn't have been able to resist another look at their private life, Loki was sure of it.

Sif was short but courteous and handed over the letter as was her duty. She couldn't completely hide her dislike though. Maybe she wasn't fully trying. She looked at his mortal woman with something resembling pity and at him with the usual resentment. Just to annoy her he gave his mortal a squeeze of the backside while examining the letter. Sif rolled her eyes.

There were a number of reasons why she detested him; from the hair prank in their youth to his actions during Thor's banishment. It must have eaten her up inside to have to act as a message girl and be forced to be nice about it. Quite funny, really.

"That was... interesting," she said once the door was closed and the tension gone.  
"Sif is not... how do you say it? My greatest fan."  
"You don't say! She hates your guts. Do you two have a history or something?"  
"Absolutely not!" he stated firmly. "She always had a sweet spot for Thor, however."  
He opened the letter.

The message wasn't encouraging. Mother would not be able to visit for quite some time, and sending Asgardian healers to Earth was out of the question. He could read between the lines that the Allfather hadn't been thrilled with the whole idea. No, why would he? Loki felt the old bitterness welling up. He was not supposed to ever get out of this semi-mortal existance, most likely, so his partner's life span was irrelevant. Even if he wasn't stuck in a prison cell anymore there was no reason to believe that the fundamental conditions of his punishment had changed. The initial sentence was for life, after all.

He wondered what would happen if he pretended to regret his actions; humiliated himself to convince them all that he had changed. The thought made him cringe. But even if he could force himself through that ordeal it wouldn't be enough. It would likely take years of living in this realm before a change in sentence would even be an option, and it was a foolish hope he wouldn't waste time on. No, Odin had wanted to bury him like a shameful secret and he had succeeded. There was no incentive to let him back into the light; the sooner people forgot about the disgraced second prince the better.

He would have to find his own way out of this situation, there was no other option.


	23. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When tension fades and clipped wings regrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is how far we follow them. Thank you to everyone who's taken an interest in this story, and loved it as much as I do.  
> Music suggestion: Let it go - Cover by Derek Govin & Jeff Hendrick  
> A Loki fanvideo for this song can be found at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEqrmXqGUKQ&index=27&list=LLOZ0de0SdkigvNQZpccmYfg

Lying in bed he was too alert to fall asleep, feeling highly awake and relaxed at the same time. Physical relaxation was no surprise, but this was more. This was the rare feeling of being relaxed in his mind; of being at peace. In sync with the world. He hadn't felt that for a very long time.

In a sudden bout of playfulness he climbed on top of her, weighing her down, feeling her naked back against his chest and belly. He nuzzled her neck.  
"Loki..."  
"Ye-es..." He nibbled her ear lobe and tickled at her waist with his fingers.  
"I'm tired. Leave me alone." He heard the soft laughter in her voice and smiled wickedly.  
"I didn't expect you to weary so easily, my dear."  
"Easily? How can you possibly be horny, _still_?"  
"I am a god, darling. There are certain aspects of it that cannot be stripped away."  
"I swear I won't live till morning if you do this."  
"Shh." He gave her thigh a squeeze. "I'm merely teasing." Well, not merely. If he lay here much longer things would get serious. "I will give you an hour to rest."  
"A whole hour? That's generous of you."  
"And when I'm back I will not take no for an answer."

He was still smiling when getting off her back and stepping down from the bed with catlike grace. Picking up his pants he continued into the bathroom and emerged again ten minutes later, freshened up and partially dressed. Silently he walked through the kitchen, unlocked the door and stepped out into the garden. The chill was refreshing. Frost crackled under his bare feet and he wondered briefly if they would turn blue if he stayed out long enough.

He walked through the gate and into the common area beyond; a grass field with scattered trees and bushes. The cold embraced him at all sides and he took a deep breath, felt it fill his lungs and clear his head. His thoughts were razor sharp.

The sky was perfectly clear; black as night and covered in stars. It brought back a memory of their trip to the hill during the first week in this place. Of the legend she'd told him about an angel who'd been banished for his pride.

 _If I were to show you what I am, what I'd show_ noone _else, would you see an angel instead of a monster?_

He kept looking up the sky.  
"Do you hear me, Allfather?" he said with a low voice. "I'm quite comfortable here. It must bother you greatly, since this is supposed to be a punishment."  
There was no answer.

_Whatever comes, I will never bow to you.Whatever comes, I will have a refuge._

And just like that a small spark of magic unlocked from it's bindings. As he walked back through the garden he couldn't resist casting a simple spell towards the neighbor's bedroom window; a harmless one, but bound to cause quite a bit of discomfort over the next few days.

Once he entered the house and approached the bed he cast another one cloaking their presence from Asgard's all-seeing eyes. He slipped under the covers and nestled his arms around her sleeping body, chest tight against her back.  
"Iih!" she startled. "You're cold!"  
"I know, darling. It's in my nature."  
She shuddered but didn't pull away. Instead she took hold off his hand and brought it to rest over her heart. And the cold started giving way.

_Just like warmth is in yours._

And he closed his eyes and rested in the moment.

He felt a pleasant stirring but didn't want to act on it just yet. Eventually he would sink himself into her warmth again, sheathed by her wet, tight embrace, and feel the arousal souring. He would bury his face in her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent and taste her luscious skin. And he would push deep until there was no need to hold back anymore and all the lust would intensify and focus as she would tremble under him and recieve his release.

But just for a little while longer he wanted to bask in this simple state of tactile bliss.

He would find a way to regain his own powers, as well as unlock her immortality. It was all a matter of time and patience. In the meantime he would remain here and enjoy the modest comforts her world had to offer. It was good enough while figuring out what to do. This was all temporary after all. He had time. And he would make the best of it.

Relaxation. Peace. A rare feeling, indeed.

A precious one.


End file.
